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'Somebody 't knows how t' fish hed
oughter go 'n ketch him fer the good o' the town - thet's what I
think.'
Now Mr Tupper was an excellent man but his incredulity was
always too bluntly put. It had even led to some ill feeling.
He came in at our place one evening with a big hook and line from
'down east' - the kind of tackle used in salt water.
'What ye goin' t' dew with it?' Uncle Eb enquired.
'Ketch thet fish ye talk 5' much about - goin' t' put him out o' the
way.'
''Tain't fair,' said Uncle Eb, 'its reedic'lous. Like leading a pup with
a log chain.'
'Don't care,' said Mose, 'I'm goin' t' go fishin t'morrer. If there reely
is any sech fish - which I don't believe there is - I'm goin' t' rassle
with him an' mebbe tek him out o' the river. Thet fish is sp'llin' the
moral character o' this town. He oughter be rode on a rail - thet fish
hed.'
How he would punish a trout in that manner Mr Tupper failed to
explain, but his metaphor was always a worse fit than his trousers
and that was bad enough.


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